


Trap Doors

by perletwo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Brainwashing, F/M, abuse of literature, post-Love In the Time of Hydra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perletwo/pseuds/perletwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ward, 33 and Bakshi stage a raid on the Playground. But Bakshi has one last trick up his sleeve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trap Doors

**Author's Note:**

> A quick OTP response to s2ep14, Love In the Time of Hydra. In no way likely to be canon-compliant, and spoilery for the last sequence of 2x14.

The Playground's loading bay doors blew open, and Grant Ward smiled at his little crew. "Told you. They're predictable."

 

Agent 33 smiled back warmly. "I'll take point on finding the device you're after. You cover the rear - no sense in you crossing paths with people who _really_ hate you," she told Ward.

 

"That leaves you running interference," Ward told Sunil Bakshi, voice flat.

 

"Of course," he answered pleasantly, and slipped past Ward to head further into the base. 33 nodded decisively and headed in the opposite direction, toward the weapons locker.

 

* * *

 

Bakshi went through the base loudly, leaving unconscious bodies and blaring alarms in his wake. The confusion would draw SHIELD's ground troops deeper into the base's east end following him, he knew, and draw them further off 33 and Ward's paths.

 

A very large part of his mind hoped they'd be pleased with him.

 

* * *

 

He reached the science labs, and tazed two of the techs into dreamland. Jemma Simmons reentered the lab from a small breakroom, bearing a cup of tea. "You! What -"

 

Bakshi didn't answer, simply lifted her by her arms and pinned her to the wall. The teacup fell from her numbed fingers and smashed on the concrete floor, and she gasped.

 

The lift brought her eye to eye with Bakshi, who was now pressing his entire weight against her. The pressure was impeding her breathing, but she held on to her faculties long enough to study him. His jaw was clenched and lines of sweat pearled at his temples. His eyes flickered between determination and confusion.

 

"Mr. Bakshi?" she said, voice low and breathier than she might have wished. His eyes sharpened into tight focus on her.

 

"Help. Me." His own voice was low and uncertain.

 

"I want to help," she answered, and forced her grip on his arms to relax into a soothing stroke. _Keep him focused on you, Jemma,_ she thought desperately. "Just tell me what you need."

 

Pain flared in his dark eyes. "Brainwashed," he said tightly. "Break. It."

 

"How?" Confusion passed across his face and she gripped an arm again, more gently this time. "Hey. Look at me. How?"

 

"...Like. In fairy tales," he answered, seeming to struggle to get the words out.

 

Jemma's own focus dropped, her mind racing - _fairy tales?_ \- for several long seconds. Then her eyes brightened and sharpened, and she lifted her head to brush her lips over his.

 

She felt him try to recoil, and pressed in a bit harder. A shudder shook through his whole body and he returned the kiss. One hand left her arm to slide up to her neck, and the other arm wrapped around her waist. She slipped down the wall onto her own feet and he bent to go with her, deepening the kiss on the way.

 

Her own hands shifted up to frame his jaw and keep him in place through the kiss. Then her higher brain functions came back to life with a kick - _oh my god what am I doing_ \- and she broke the kiss abruptly with a gasp for air.

 

"Better." Bakshi rested his forehead on her shoulder. "You have. To restrain me. In case."

 

Somehow one of Jemma's hands had begun stroking his hair without her noticing. "Should I knock you out? Would you still be - like this? Or -"

 

"Don't. Know." He turned to bury his face in the crook of her neck. "Don't. Risk it. Keep me. Conscious. Keep me. Awake. Drug me. If need be." His head moved up to steal another, softer, kiss from her. " _Jemma._ "

 

She nodded, and pushed him away from her, down into her desk chair. She yanked a few USB cables loose from her computer and used them to tie his hands and feet, then moved over to the drug cabinet, unlocked it and grabbed a pen injector.

 

"Adderall XR. Amphetamine salt cocktail," she told him, and he nodded. "Had it. Works. Keeps me. Up nights."

 

"Good." She primed the pen and injected him with the drug. Then SHIELD agents burst through the door. "It's OK!" she called. "This one's down."

 

"Who are you working with?" the guard spat at him. "What are you after?"

 

He glanced up at Jemma and their eyes met - Simmons' gaze exasperated, Bakshi's puppy-dog adoring. She nodded, and he answered without taking his eyes off her. "Ward and 33. Weapon. From - Peru?" his eyes flashed the question to her, and with a wry smile she nodded again, once.

 

"That's tesseract powered technology, weaponized," Simmons looked over her shoulder to the guard. "Whatever they want it for cannot be good - spread the word, don't let them get their hands on it."

 

"Jemma." His voice was soft, just above a whisper, and she leaned down to hear him. "Did I - will I be - rewarded?"

 

The last word broke into a pleading note, and she considered. "First things first," she murmured into his ear, and he nodded. Jemma straightened and turned to one of the guards.

 

"Got cuffs? I'll get this one down to the Vault - you guys get to the Armoury." The guard tossed her a pair of reinforced handcuffs, and she shackled Bakshi's wrists, undid her stopgap bonds, and pulled him roughly up from the chair. The guards ran for the weapons locker, and Simmons pushed Bakshi through the corridors to an elevator, going down.

* * *

 

Once inside Vault D, Jemma led Bakshi to the bed, sat him down on the edge near the pillow and sat beside him at the foot of the bed. She used her smartphone to activate the cell wall, locking them in. She took a deep breath and angled herself toward him again.

 

His eyes remained locked on her, as they had been since she kissed him.

 

"Jemma." She nodded, and he closed his eyes. "Thank you. And - I'm sorry."

 

"Bakshi, what on Earth did you _do_? How - why - did that trick work?"

 

He sighed. "After Morocco. Whitehall. Set me to working out. How Gill broke our programming." A faint smile ghosted across his face. "Been nice to just ask him. But. I pieced it together. Video. Of the brainwashing. His lips. Moved. Think left and think right and think low and think high."

 

"Dr. Seuss?" Jemma couldn't quite suppress her smile, and Bakshi brightened in response.

 

"Iambic pentameter," he said. "Not having. The kind of parents. Who read me The Cat In the Hat. I went with Shakespeare. When I do count the clock that tells the time. And see the brave day sunk in hideous night."

 

To stop him reciting, Jemma broke in. "That was all it took?"

 

Bakshi frowned. "Not all. All I was sure of. I thought - I guessed. Gill. Studied his eyes. He pushed himself - the important parts - I thought - into some hidden corner of his mind. Something we didn't know about. Nobody knew about. A memory, or a fantasy, or -" He rolled one shoulder helplessly. "Don't know. Can't know. Can't ask."

 

"But you tried it," Jemma prodded. "You pushed it all onto _me_?"

 

He nodded. "I. - Desired you. From the first." She snorted, and he smiled. "Couldn't. Wasn't - practical. So I hid it -" Her rueful grin made his smile widen before he refocused. "Hid it well. Whitehall might've seen. But he's gone. Nobody else. Looked close enough. At me." Another shrug. "They didn't. Know what they were doing. Ward and 33. Not really. Sloppy. Left holes. Trap doors still open. Worked well enough. Seems to have."

 

He watched Jemma's eyes settle at middle distance as she thought it through.

 

"What you felt for Whitehall, that devotion, you've transferred it to me? All of it?" He nodded. "And now you've made me completely responsible for you - for your future actions."

 

"That's the sorry," he agreed.

 

She put both hands over her face, breathed out a long, exasperated sigh, and rose. "I need to go back upstairs, see what's shaken out. Figure out what on Earth we're going to do about you."

 

"Jemma?" She turned back, and found Bakshi's face aglow with hope and helpless desire.

 

She sighed again, settled on one knee next to him on the bed. Put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. He leaned into it, shaded it with as much passion as he dared before she drew back to rest her forehead against his.

 

"That's the thank you," he breathed against her cheek. She brushed a quick peck against his lips and rose again, leaving this time.

 

Bakshi's eyes stayed trained on Jemma until the wall reappeared to cut off his view of her. Then he lay back on the bed and focused on a point on the ceiling, and whispered to himself.

 

"Weary with toil. I haste me. To my bed. The dear repose. For limbs. With travel tired. But then. Begins a journey. In my head. ..."

 


End file.
